


little red

by madcity (johnshuaa)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood Fusion, Blood, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Tension, i am currently listening to high school musical as i publish this how fitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnshuaa/pseuds/madcity
Summary: All Kun wants to do is bring his cookies to his grandmother, but he keeps getting intercepted by a peculiar man with a dreadful smirk and honey eyes.
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun
Comments: 13
Kudos: 130





	little red

**Author's Note:**

> tw// mentions of blood, but no gore
> 
> much thank to my beta sher for finally making me take this thing off the shelf and dust it off. it's finally seeing the light of day.

The forest is a cold and cruel place. 

The trees are inviting, the branches pull away for visitors to pass through without getting their head caught on the twigs. They stand like columns framing a door, and inside there is light that winds through the woods like a trail of fairy dust. 

But the forest is still cold and cruel. 

Once past the edges of the woods, everything turns dark, there’s no mercy, the trees all look the same and everywhere you turn, fear. There’s nothing left as a guide. The opening is just a trick for what is inside. 

The woods open, and they close, and it is a cage. And within the cage are terrible things that no human can possibly imagine, within the cage lies a monster that roams and kills, and legend says that it consumes all that comes near it. It lies in the dark and ambushes when least expected, and as soon as it is done with the body, it disappears again, ready to hunt for its next prey. It is hungry, all the time, and nobody gets past it.

Most know how to avoid it, they’ve tracked the records and mapped the forbidden area, and they mark it everywhere to make it known. They trap the beast away, hoping it’ll stay put. But it has intelligence beyond compare; no fence or warning will keep it from feeding. It is hungry, and it will kill.

The forest is a cold and cruel place.

  
  


Kun takes the path that winds the most through the forest to visit his grandmother. It’s the prettiest route, there’s a nicely paved trail, flower and berry bushes all around, and birds and squirrels and other little animals scrambling around all the time. It’s lively, and it makes his long walk through the supposedly treacherous forest a little more bearable. 

Basket in one hand and the bird seeds he stole from the feeder in the backyard of his cottage in another, he makes his weekly trek through the forest to see his grandmother on the other side.

It doesn’t take long to get there: his town is placed right along the edge of the woods, and a short walk gets him to the trail, and then, less than an hour later, he reaches the other side, where his grandmother resides in her own little cottage. There, he stays the night, then returns to town the next day, when it is bright outside, and his mother won’t be worried that the beast will be out to find him.

Kun takes his time down the trail, because he knows the light at the end, marking the opening to the other town, will be there, and he could wander the forest for an extra hour if he really wanted to. And he wants to.

The summer days dwindle, the dark comes sooner by the week, and Kun is already missing the warmth. His mother had forced him to put on his red cloak to bear the cold, and it’s bright, so bright, a beacon in the forest. In case he gets in trouble, is what she calls it. Kun just thinks it’s excessive. But it’s a beautiful coat nonetheless, so he puts it on without another reprimanding. 

There’s wildlife brimming in the forest. Kun likes to count how many he spots as he walks. The most prominent are the songbirds, soaring across his vision every so often, and they land on his palm when he offers the birdfeed to them. He also sees rabbits and squirrels hiding about in the bushes, burrowing in with the young, scampering up trunks to their homes. 

He doesn’t see deer all that often, though. 

It’s the white spots of a fawn that he notices first, barely visible within the trees. Kun knows he should stay put on the trail; he didn’t have the greatest sense of direction, after all. But he still follows the spots anyways, and he makes his way through the bushes and branches, trying his best to keep up with the fawn.

The world gets darker around him, but it couldn’t, it shouldn’t. Kun had left in the morning, and at the latest, it should be noon. He can only see the branches of the trees when he’s right in front of it, so he holds on to the rough trunks as he follows the only thing he can still see: the spots.

Eventually, even sight loses out, and there’s nothing but gray in his vision. His breaths quicken, and he tightens his cape around his body. He’s alert of only his boots crunching along the leaves and branches on the ground. Then, the howling.

There are innocent animals in the forest, but there are also predators. Kun should have remembered this.

His steps become frantic as he turns around in an attempt to head back to the trail, but it’s no use, he feels like he’s walking in circles. His mother might have been right with her warnings.

He closes his eyes for a moment to recollect himself, and it works, just a little bit, to calm his erratic heart. He opens them again, and is met with a pair of peculiar yellow eyes. Kun almost screams.

“Don’t fret, dearest,” he says, and his voice is smooth and deep, enough for Kun’s heart to stay at a steadier pace. “Are you lost?”

Kun’s mouth falls open for a moment before nodding.

“You shouldn’t be wandering in the forest all alone, it’s quite dangerous.”

The body belonging to the golden eyes steps out of the shadow, revealing a tall man dressed in a dark coat, feet laced with knee-high leather boots, like that of a hunter. His hair, brown and shaggy, falls over the side of his face, hiding him. And Kun must have been hallucinating, because his eyes are brown, a light honey brown, nothing of that yellow he saw before.

“I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” is all Kun could muster from his frozen mouth and frozen body.

“But here you are.” He has a wicked grin of sharp teeth on his handsome face that makes Kun’s fingers go cold around his basket. “What is a pretty little thing like you doing out in the forest?”

There’s some compelling feature to the strange man that makes Kun want to tell him. He shouldn’t. And there are a million reasons he shouldn’t.

“I’m visiting my grandmother.”

“Ah.” The man smirks and a sharp fang prods at his lower lip. “You’re a little far from home, aren’t you? The trail is a mighty long way from here.”

Kun’s breath hitches when the man takes a step forward, and that’s when he realizes how tall the other is, how broad and menacing he is. Kun wants to step away, but that expresses fear, and he _cannot_ afford that right now.

“Don’t worry, dearest. Trust me. I don’t bite.”

So Kun stands his ground and puts on the most defiant, most confident face he can possibly muster. “Sir, if you could please lead me back to the trail, I would be grateful. If not, I’ll find my way back. My grandmother is waiting, and I can’t possibly afford to spend another minute here.”

The man has his hands hidden in the pockets of his coat, Kun has realized. 

“Of course. No one stays out in the woods for long,” he hums and begins walking past Kun’s shoulder. After a few long strides, he turns to check if Kun had followed suit. He hadn’t. “Aren’t you going to follow, little red?”

Kun scurries along with him, tucking the hood of his cloak over his head to bear the cold, though it shouldn’t be this chilly anyways. The soft crunches of leather boots crushing fallen leaves and grass fill the silent air. There’s no wildlife here. Where did the fawn go?

Not long after, the man had led Kun back to the forest he knew much better, and it seemed like two separate worlds when he takes one last step across over the bush. Immediately, he’s warmed by the light and life.

Kun relishes in it for a moment, before turning to bid farewell to his guide. He doesn’t cross the bushes, and stays hidden by a shadow cast by a particularly wide oak tree.

“May I know your name, sir?” Kun asks timidly. He’s always been far too trusting of strangers, and this one, despite every little tick in his brain that tells him otherwise, is no different. 

"Are you sure you would like to know?"

That makes Kun’s mouth go dry. He ventures on. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“A name means becoming acquainted.” The man’s lips curl back into a smile, and Kun sees the way his canines glimmer, sharp, his eyes flashing yellow as his pupils narrow into slits. And then it’s gone, like a trick of the light. “Acquaintance means association.”

Kun takes a breath, and it goes down his throat cold and biting. “I don’t see how that is a problem.”

The man takes slow steps back, receding into the shadow, and utters a quiet word that Kun barely makes out, but he hears it, the soft whisper of the word, “Johnny,” flying past him with a gust of wind, and then he disappears.

  
  


Kun returns to the forest a week later, and every waking second as he makes his way down the trail fills him with anticipation and fear. 

As the wind picks up, he huddles into his cloak, pulling the basket into himself, as he walks, quiet steps that are so lonely in a vast forest. He can’t hear anything besides howling of and in the wind.

His mother is expecting him soon. 

It’s safe, he tells himself, the way back. There’s no reason it isn’t. He’s made the journey hundreds of times and nothing has happened. Besides meeting Johnny, of course.

Kun thinks the dreadful feeling in his gut is due to the strange man he met in the woods not too long ago.

Somewhere, his presence always lingers in the back of Kun’s mind, hidden, but ever-present. Kun remembers the sharpness of his teeth and the odd-colored glow of his eyes. But he also remembers his tall, broad body, the richness of his features that Kun can recall in a moment. 

Perhaps that is why he is afraid. He is afraid of how quick he is able to think of him, a mysterious man in the woods, who all he knows of is a word that is his name. Nothing more, nothing less.

The ribbons of his cloak betray him when another gust of wind rushes into him, and the bow lying across his clavicle comes undone, the wind carrying the cloth up and into the air. The cold bites at his skin, his neck exposed to the weather. His sweater and trousers do little to fight against the frosty weather. But he can only watch helplessly as the cloak falls away to leave him revealed.

He watches the rouge cloth be carried away, fluttering, until its direction changes, and it catches onto the branches of a tree, trapped, but stationary.

Kun scurries over, but that is when he realizes it is far too high for him to reach. No amount of struggle would actually get him anywhere. 

And the cold, it nips at his bare skin like leeches, almost painful. Without the sun, he can’t gauge the time of day as well as he usually can. He can’t afford to make it home after darkness, his mother would slaughter him.

He glances up at the tail of his cloak, whipping helplessly on the branch.

“Oh, little red. You always find yourself in trouble, don’t you?”

The gasp that escapes Kun’s lips comes out as a wisp of white, the temperature drops another ten, twenty degrees, and it feels like winter, all of a sudden. 

The body of the voice emerges from the shadows of the trees. His eyes glow, yellow and bright, but it dims as he exits the dark. 

He reaches up to grab the cloak from the branch with ease, disentangling the cloth smoothly, and offers it to Kun with an extended arm.

Kun takes it, carefully. He pinches it by its sides and swings the cloak around him, tying it in a neat bow on his collarbone, tighter, this time.

“Thank you again, Johnny.”

“You mustn’t lose yourself in the forest so often. Bad things will happen.” Johnny smiles as he says this, as if it weren’t as serious of a matter as he says. “You could be eaten by a beast. They’re rumored to lurk around the woods in the wintertime.”

“Don’t tell me you believe those silly stories.” Kun kneels down to pick up his basket again, though he’s unsure when he dropped it. He tucks it into the crook of his elbow, hidden by his cape. “It’s nonsense.”

Johnny’s smile widens, and it’s not a nice smile, it’s sinister and filled with some hidden motive. “I wouldn’t say that so loud, if I were you. The forest is filled with eavesdropping creatures.”

Kun wants to scoff, but something cold grasps at the pits of his stomach. A feeling of trepidation fills him for a second. “I should be going along my way. My mother is waiting.”

“Of course.” Johnny bows his head, taking a step back. Kun notices then that Johnny has yet to set foot on the trail.

Before he turns on his way, Kun reaches into his basket, searching for the small packet his grandmother had placed in there for his trip home. He finds it, a small, circular bundle wrapped in a handkerchief. 

“Cookies,” Kun says, handing it to Johnny. “For helping me.”

Johnny blinks, once, twice, before taking it gingerly from Kun’s open palm. “Thank you.”

Kun grins to himself, and hides it as he brings his hood over his head. “Goodbye, Johnny.”

“Goodbye, Kun.”

Kun doesn’t recall ever telling Johnny his name, though.

  
  


“She’s missing, Mayor, please, send a search party, anything. I can’t lose my little girl.”

The desperate pleads echo through the sparse streets of town, clear as day, that the women with baskets in arm, making their way through the market stalls, turn to whisper to each other, eyes still caught on the ragged man groveling at the foot of the mayor.

“We’ll see what we can do to find her.”

“No, you must send the officers out, _now_. It’s closing in on the winter. The beast is hungry.” The man claws at the mayor’s legs, snagging onto his pants to keep him from turning away. “She’ll be eaten if we don’t find her now.”

The mayor’s furrowed eyebrows twitch with unease at the man’s dirty hands on him. “Sir, we will see what we can do. All forces are focused on the harvests right now. We’ll have to readjust some to form a search party.”

“Mayor.” A dreadful sob rips through his throat, and it makes the stall vendors look down and away, not responsible for such an inhuman noise. “My daughter, your job is to protect your townspeople-”

“And I said I will.” The mayor grits his teeth, but stops his guards from prying the grime of a man off of him. “Now, go to the minister and ask for him to pray. Be useful in the time being.”

“The minister’s prayers cannot stop the beast’s hunger.” The man falls back to his knees, and the mayor steps away, disgusted. “You cannot just let another one die so easily-”

“Enough. We will do what we can soon. Next time, make sure your daughter doesn’t get so close to the woods as to get lost.” Annoyance seeps out of the mayor’s voice as he steps around the man on the ground. “Go to the minister. He will be of more help for the time being.”

The cries of the man can be heard even by the townspeople still in the comforts of their own home.

Kun’s mother smiles softly to him as she places a bag of fresh corn into his basket. “I’m glad you’re safe, darling. You always heed my words.”

Kun finally manages to drag his gaze from the man, still hopelessly wiping away the tears that couldn’t stop falling to the dirt. “Of course, Mother.”

“ _Never stray from the path,_ ” Kun recites again, receiving a loving pat to his cheek.

“Good boy.”

  
  


It’s winter now. Kun trades in his red cape for a coat, its hem and insides lined with pristine white rabbit fur that barely brushes the floor when he stands up straight. It’s padded with fur across his shoulders as well, making him feel regal, princely in the bright rouge, and most importantly, safe.

It’s winter, and it snows. He crosses the forest every two weeks to his grandmother’s house instead, for his mother fears that he will get caught amidst a snowstorm on his way there. Kun thinks she’s too paranoid for her own good, and that there’s a reason her hairs gray at an alarming rate.

The crunch of his leather boots against the snow echoes in the silence. The forest is beautiful covered in snow, the trail barely visible, the branches of trees and bushes bare, draped in a blanket of white crystals. Finches shoot across the trees, visiting their friends and families before being forced back into their homes for the rest of the season. 

As Kun walks, he spots a white rabbit, its ruby eyes serving as the only contrast against the white snow. It pauses in the middle of the trail, sits, perking its ear up. It twitches, and then frantically jumps off the trail.

It’s followed by a large, grey mass, hurtling across the path, but it’s gone as soon as Kun blinks, disappearing into the bushes and trees.

He realizes that the crackling isn’t from the soles of his shoes pressing into the snow with each step. The crackling is the sound of thin bones snapping into pieces, the sound of a predator gnawing at its prey with no mercy.

Kun closes his eyes. It’s a natural process of survival, he shouldn’t be this affected. So he takes a deep breath of the crisp cold air to clear his head and resumes his trek again.

“You shouldn’t be here, little red.”

Kun halts. He closes his eyes, and he sees swirling honey.

“It’s better to go around the forest these days. The cold changes nature.”

“That path takes another day by foot,” Kun whispers. He refuses to turn to face the voice, for some inexplicable reason. “The forest is quicker.”

“The _forest_ is unsafe. You don’t want a beast to find you, do you? To consume you as you scream for help, even though it’s pointless?” 

“I’m not afraid.” Kun whips his body around as he says this, to prove that he can stand strong, but he should not have trusted himself that much.

The red on Johnny’s hands mirrors the red of Kun’s coat, vividly fresh, and it dribbles onto the snow, leaving little red drip drops on the ground, like freckles, red, bleeding freckles. There’s a streak of darker rouge across Johnny’s lips, as if he wiped the blood across his face hastily in a futile attempt to get rid of the stain. But his eyes are a pool of honey that Kun focuses on instead, instead of the single drop of crimson following the curve of Johnny’s lips to trail down his chin and onto the snow.

“You aren’t afraid?” Johnny’s lips quirk into a mischievous smile. “Little red, lying will not get you anywhere.”

When Johnny takes a heavy step forward, Kun takes one back. He’s queasy from the sight of blood on its own, and the metallic odor that comes with it could possibly make him throw up the contents of his breakfast on the spot. Johnny’s steps quicken, and so do Kun’s, until his heel catches onto the hem of his coat, and he trips, falling onto his back. 

His heart beats erratically, and fear claws at his organs in a constricting grasp as Johnny kneels in front of Kun. But, he doesn’t make any effort to get closer, only braces a hand against the snow as his eyes watch Kun. 

Kun sees past the amber color of his irises and sees the yellow, the slits for pupils. Johnny isn’t human.

“So pure,” Johnny says, and he lifts a hand, his palms filled with a pile of snow. “Such an untainted little thing.”

He squeezes his hand shut, and the warmth of his body melts the snow; it drips to the ground, laced with red.

Kun’s arms threaten to collapse underneath him, straining to hold his weight and his terror.

“You think I’m a monster, don’t you? You can see past the glamour.” Johnny leans closer, and Kun can smell the iron in his breath. He says quietly, “I’m not just some hunter in the woods that you think me to be. I’m the monster it hunts.”

“No, you aren’t,” Kun replies shakily, and his neck _hurts_. He wants to lay his body down and hibernate in the snowy blankets. “You aren’t a monster.”

“Then you are _mad_ , to think that.” Johnny bares his teeth, sharpened canines fit to bite through flesh. “You are too naive for your own good.”

Kun swallows, it hurts for his saliva to go down, but he’s allowed to scramble back and away from Johnny as he stands back up to his full height. 

There’s blood, yes, but Johnny is also still as human as Kun is, and his hair is just a mess of soft brown, his eyes are amber sap that petrifies him. All Kun sees is that, not the monster that Johnny seems to think he is. 

“Johnny, I’m not afraid,” Kun persists, even though he’s still sprawled in the snow, vulnerable prey that could easily be hunted, killed, eaten. “I’m not afraid.” He repeats it like a mantra.

The blood no longer drips from Johnny as it dries on his lips, dark and oxidized. It looks like the jam Kun used to accidentally smear across his cheeks while eagerly scarfing down one of his grandmother’s famous scones. Yes, that’s all it is, strawberry jam.

“Get going, before nightfall,” Johnny warns. “I don’t want to see you here until winter passes.”

Kun is about to argue, that he must get back home to his parents for the coming of age festival in a few days, and that he cannot possibly wait for winter to pass, but Johnny, sweet, honey-eyed Johnny, growls at him, his pupils sliding into thin slits for a moment, before he’s crossing the border into the woods again, into the unknown of the trees. 

Once Kun picks up his basket and dusts off the snow sticking to his coat, he sprints the rest of his way to his grandmother’s house.

  
  


Long, heaving breaths consume Kun as he runs down the trail on his way towards home.

He had said not to cross the forest again in winter, but Kun couldn’t obey those words; he had to get home quick, and couldn’t risk taking an unfamiliar path around the forest. So, if he runs, as fast as he can, perhaps Johnny wouldn’t know.

“I’m not afraid,” Kun mumbles to himself. “I’m not afraid.”

Snow begins to fall, landing on his hood in a halo, catching onto his eyelashes and his skin. Ice bites at him, but melts off just as quick when coming in contact with his skin.

His legs yearn to give out. The trail through the woods isn’t meant to be completed in one breath.

Kun wills himself to surge forward, the faster, the better. He’ll barely make it on time for the festival preparations his mother had signed him up for, and he doesn’t want to disappoint his mother.

He spots a rabbit hop across the trail, white and beautiful, untainted, and it disappears into a bush, but that’s enough to stop Kun abruptly. He pauses, and takes long, uneven breaths, but the oxygen only feeds the fire burning in his lungs.

Then, there’s a large gray mass that hurtles across the path, disappearing just as quick, and Kun would have thought it to be a trick of his mind if he didn’t hear a quiet whimper ring through the air that is cut off just as quickly. It leaves a bitter taste on Kun’s tongue, and he closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing to rid the roughness in his throat.

“You didn’t listen, little red.”

The sound of the voice increases Kun’s heart rate tenfold, and his jaw quakes. He keeps his eyes shut, as if refusing to see the reality could somehow change the truth.

“I tell you things for a reason. I wanted to help you, keep you safe. But you don’t listen.” Kun can practically envision the bared, bloody teeth that come with those words. “What would your mother say about this? That you run off into the woods to meet a stranger?”

Kun doesn’t have the courage to open his eyes, because he knows what will happen when he sees Johnny. This time, he’s not going to let Kun run off again. He is hungry, and Kun is a perfectly presented meal right in front of him.

“Johnny,” Kun says quietly, but it comes out more as a whimper. He tenses his jaw when he hears the crunching of snow get closer to him. “I’ve told you, I’m not afraid.”

Winter is cold, but Johnny’s finger tracing a line down the side of Kun’s face is colder, leaving a trail of frostbite on his skin, crackling like ice. He draws his finger to Kun’s chin, and uses his nail to tilt Kun’s face upward. Kun forces his eyelids tighter together.

“If you aren’t afraid, you would open your eyes.”

Johnny’s breath on Kun’s face is warm though, like the warmth of his hair and his honey eyes, and he’s like summer, the last passing nights of summer, that soon is to transition into autumn. He’s the last trace of heat that makes you yearn for the hottest day of the season again, because you know you’ll miss it the moment it’s gone. 

And it’s enough to make Kun bloom, to make him open his eyes and lose himself in the soft, boyish features Johnny has, the roundness of his cheeks tapering into his chin, his eyes round and wide, and _he’s no monster_.

Kun lets out a gasp when Johnny’s arm wraps around the back of his waist to pull him closer, so they’re chest to chest, and Kun can just about realize how small he is compared to Johnny. How Johnny can handle him easily, and Kun is just a ragdoll-

The hammering in his chest is muffled by Johnny’s mouth on his, hot, tasting like the tang of summer citrus and harvest apples, like warmth, but he also tastes metallic and sinful, and Kun knows, he knows he’s doomed.

But it’s so hard to stop when Johnny embodies the desire that Kun has had to tamper down in his body for so long because it is a sin to act upon those urges. He kisses back harder, with more fervor, a starving man faced with a feast.

It elicits a low grumble in Johnny’s throat, and his hands begin to move across the expanse of Kun’s back. 

He wants to let Johnny open up his ribcage and take the beating heart of his chest and calm it down, because he trusts Johnny with it. Oh, his mind is running wild, and he can imagine all the things he would let Johnny do to him, to his body, and that, along with the way Johnny nibbles on Kun’s lip, makes him moan.

Johnny takes that as a cue to bite harder, and Kun can feel how sharp his teeth is, that the canines he’s seen were not just a trick of the light, and that they’re real, feral, with the ability to tear skin, and that sends a heat curling at the pit of his stomach. 

Kun reaches up to grab at the strands of Johnny’s hair, letting his fingers run through the strands, and when he tugs, just a little, he tastes metal on his tongue. Kun pulls away from Johnny, and runs his finger across his bottom lip. His thumb comes up covered in red. 

“Little red,” Johnny says, and his voice is rough and forced out in a choke. “You should leave before it gets worse. Before I can’t stop myself.”

There’s something unspoken between them, lying with the red of Kun’s thumb, and they both know this is something that’s wrong. But it’s what’s wrong that makes it so desirable.

Kun hooks his elbow around Johnny’s neck and pulls him back in again, finding pleasure in licking across Johnny’s lips and biting on them, knowing whatever he’s doing could never match with the damage of Johnny’s teeth. And he can feel the fire churning in his stomach get hotter and hotter, enough to melt the snow and rid of winter altogether.

Johnny moves past Kun’s mouth, leaning downwards to lick at his neck, nose pressing to Kun’s throat, and then his teeth latches onto the skin, leaving gentle nips everywhere. That’s when the twisting in Kun’s stomach intensifies. That’s when he realizes that he is scared.

But the fear turns into pleasure when Johnny replaces the bites with featherlight kisses as if to heal spots he bruised. He takes Johnny’s hands and guides them to the button of his red cloak under his chin, and with hooded eyes, holds onto Johnny’s wrists as he unclasps it. The cloak flutters to the ground in a heap.

“I’m not going to leave. I’m going to be here.” Kun ventures forward and lets his arm fall by Johnny’s hip, and there’s no distance left between them anymore. “And I want you to continue. Don’t stop.”

It’s bitterly cold when Kun’s naked shoulder digs into the snow as he’s pressed to the ground, but it’s quickly warmed when Johnny lays his hands and body all over him, hungry, yellow eyes glowing.

  
  


Their town is filled with lights, paper lanterns hanging off every door frame, swaying in the wind like little, glowing flags, to signify the year’s end and transition into the new. Small bouquets of white primroses have been prepared and tied together by strips of twine, and passed to eligible youths through the festival. Guilt drips from Kun as he takes a bouquet and tucks it into the lapel of his red coat; it drips like the blood and come still drips along his skin.

His mother was livid when he arrived late, especially angry with his appearance, his red cloak a shade darker, drenched from the snow. But with the festival far under way, she ushers him off to change so he would at least make it in time for the opening ceremony.

And when he stripped off his clothes, he let his fingertips brush over the column of purple and blue lining his neck and chest, and he’s so sore he hardly knows how he’s standing. A clean set of a pressed tunic and trousers were already set on his bed, but he takes a moment to press his nose into his dirtied shirt, the way it smells of sin and pleasure and everything Kun has imagined in the deepest, darkest crevice of his mind. But if his mother even caught a whiff of the foreign scent on him, he would be eaten alive.

Through the ceremony, Kun’s mind is distant, even as the elders drape the red velvet cape over his shoulders and place a primrose flower crown atop his head, even as they read their yearly scriptures to the crowds to welcome him and the three others kneeling by him into adulthood. And even as the village dances to the cheerful folk music, hands in each other’s, Kun can only think about the way Johnny looked ramming into him for the very first time.

The festivities, however, do not last long, because as it reaches night, there’s a dreadful scream ripping through the music and excited laughter.

The village crowds together, and Kun, lost in the back of the pack, frowns to himself. But the sea parts just as quickly as it formed, and there’s a girl, barely held up by the arm of another village woman, that makes Kun suck in a sharp breath.

There’s blood, scars, cuts, all across her body, her clothes clinging to the places her wounds dried, practically half dead. And Kun remembers, she was the one missing from the ceremony, she’s _been_ missing for the past month, she’s meant to be the fifth one, also wrapped in a velvet cape. 

But it’s the familiar imprint on her shoulder that catches Kun’s attention. He’d know it anywhere, because hidden under his cloak is the same set of teeth marks that he can vividly remember receiving not too long ago. 

“It was the beast from the woods,” she sobs, crumbling to the ground, falling out of the woman’s arms. And she doesn’t get back up. “It took me. And it almost killed me.”

Kun’s melding into the crowds and running towards the woods a moment after, cape billowing behind him, a red speck in the darkness.

  
  


The forest opens its arms in a loving hug that Kun falls in to. His chest feels as if it’s going to explode, but he heads in with purpose, and he knows he’s never leaving the woods again.

Trees filter the moonlight, and there’s barely a shimmer reflecting off the snow. Kun is alone. He heads for the heart of the forest, where power is the greatest.

“It’s you. You’re the one taking us away,” Kun calls out into the black expanse. “Every year, you take one, and they never come back. Why’d you let her go?”

He’s met with nothing but the sharp whistle of the wind.

“I know you’re here.”

And indeed, there’s a pair of yellow pupils glistening like marbles in the dark. 

“And Johnny, I’m not afraid.”

He feels familiar hands reaching under his cloak, following the curve of his body, and Kun closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation. He sighs, light and airy.

“Little red, you look absolutely delectable tonight.”

Again, Johnny’s nosing under his jaw, lips so close to the sensitive parts of Kun’s skin that it makes him prickle.

“I let her go because I wanted you, darling.” Johnny finishes with a kiss to the crook of Kun’s neck. “I want you, only.”

A bubbly laugh escapes Kun’s lips, and when he opens his eyes, he can see the moon, full, glowing gold. Johnny leaves another gently nibble on his collarbone. His cape falls to the side to provide more access to his skin.

“Then take me. I’m all yours.”

  
  


The forest is a cold and cruel place. 

It’s the wall separating friendly villages, a whitewater river to cross to meet with loved ones. And thus, there are dangers to lessen crossings. Those who dare to wander in have an unknown death wish. 

So every year, the villages provide an offering of fresh blood at the winter solstice, a youthful sweet virgin, ripe and delicious. The beast will only take the best. 

In exchange, he guards the forest for the rest of the year, allowing safe passages to and fro, under daylight and night. The path through the forest remains beautiful and bright, but stray from it, and there’s no safety net to fall into. There is only the cruelness of nature that claws and reaches for anything that lives.

The monster is good. It only asks for one thing. Do not forget that.

The forest is a cold and cruel place.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)


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